


Foible

by thorinoakenbutt



Series: FFXIVWrite2020 prompts [21]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Final Fantasy XIV: Shadowbringers, M/M, Male Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Pre-Relationship, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020, White Mage Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorinoakenbutt/pseuds/thorinoakenbutt
Summary: Definition of foible1: the part of a sword or foil blade between the middle and point2: a minor flaw or shortcoming in character or behavior : weakness
Relationships: G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch/Warrior of Light
Series: FFXIVWrite2020 prompts [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918291
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Foible

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my friends, your support means the world to me <3

A loud cry of frustration rang out over the training yard as E'andhris Tia unceremoniously threw his staff against the wall. Watching it clatter to the ground with cold eyes, he turned and lashed out at the training dummy with his magic, not bothering with a focus as his temper flared hot. Ripping _hard_ at the stagnant aether that smothered him on all sides, he wove it into a _Glare_. Feet rose from the ground, the spell taking shape as glittering, prismatic colors that danced about his form. On an exhale, he hurled the orbs that coalesced in a high arc, slamming into the dummy with a bright flash of light. 

The smoldering hunk of wood that remained behind should have felt satisfying. Instead, all E’andhris could think of was how the spell was weaker than it would have been on the Source. That _he_ was weaker than he should be. He needed to be _more_ , but the First was disturbingly quiet without the chorus of the Elementals that had ever tickled the back of his mind. The oppressive overabundance of astral aether choked him with every breath, threatening to snuff out what little life remained in the world. Just as the Black Rose did to—

Wrenching his thoughts away from Urianger’s vision, E’andhris struggled to tamp down thoughts of the Leveilleur twins’ deaths in that dark future. The familiar sense of helplessness was overwhelming as he grappled with the others that he’d loved and lost, that he hadn’t been able to save. Minfilia. Moenbryda. Haurchefant. Ysayle. What good was a healer if they can’t heal? Protect? Grant _succor?_

With a low growl, he bent to grab at his staff, stalking towards the former dummy. Lashing out with an animalistic sound of rage, he swung his weapon like a club overhead, bringing it down with all of his fury at the world. At himself. The wood cracked loudly beneath the force of the metal rod held white-knuckled between his hands, splintering further into nothingness. Standing there for a long moment, panting hard, E’andhris lifted the staff to strike again. 

“I think it’s quite dead already, my friend! Though I dare say, I’m not sure if our dear Captain Lyna will be impressed or incensed to see what you’ve done to the poor thing.” Head turning like a whip, the Warrior grimaced at the Crystal Exarch’s approach. Brandishing a basket, full lips were twisted up into a warm smile. “I come bearing gifts of food, if you could spare a moment from your training.”

Stabbing the spiked end of his staff into the dirt, E’andhris leaned heavily against it as he eyed the hooded man. “How did you find me?” he asked, in no mood to waste time on pleasantries. He’d wished to be entirely alone, not to bandy confusing words with someone he once held dear. Someone who now chose to treat him as a stranger. 

“Alisaie,” the Exarch replied easily, coming to a stop beside the Warrior. Leather wrapped fingers pulled back a red and white checkered cloth that covered the basket, revealing what looked to be sandwiches, neatly lined up in rows. “She informed me that you haven’t been taking care of yourself. Skipping out on both meals and sleep. Now I can hardly send you to bed like a child, but I thought that I could perchance convince you to take a meal at the very least.”

Truthfully, E’andhris was famished and felt as though he could sleep for a week straight, though that would hardly halt the ever encroaching Light. “I’m fine,” he said in a clipped tone, turning his back to the Exarch. He could almost _feel_ the other man’s face fall at the easy dismissal. Picturing the flinch, the hurt-filled saccharine eyes that lingered against the long line of his spine. 

“I cannot─ _will not_ ─leave you until you’ve taken a rest, my friend. You will require all of your strength in the coming days.” Glancing over his shoulder, E’andhris’ lip curled in a snarl at the authority in the Exarch’s voice. Gone was the man who pouted and huffed in the face of others’ rules, it would seem. “Come, sit awhile with me and eat. Mayhap we could discuss whatever is amiss as well.”

The Warrior was silent as he gave the shorter man a withering look. “You don’t need to pretend that you care for me,” he hissed, low and angry. He’d been taught that harsh lesson once already. Tentative hopes for a shared future slammed shut in his face just the same as the doors to the Twelve _forsaken_ Syrcus Tower. Those lips that had ever tempted him yet never tasted fell open in shock at the bite of his bitterness. “I’m naught but a weapon to you. Just point me in the direction you need and I’ll take care of the rest for you, but _don’t_ pretend to be my friend.”

“E’andhris...you are _so much_ more than that.”

“ _Am I?_ ” Running a hand through his hair in an agitated gesture, long fingers caught on the tie that held it back and E’andhris yanked it loose with an angry hiss. Blonde strands fell into his face, only a minor irritant compared to the sheer earnestness in the Exarch’s voice. “That _is_ why you’ve gone through so much trouble to bring me here to Norvrandt, to the First, isn’t it? Not because of _me_ , but the Blessing of _bloody_ Light. I’m not _stupid_ , o’ _Crystal Exarch_.”

“You never were.” Words uttered so quietly that the Warrior nearly missed them, caught up in his own misery as he was. With a start, he stared down into the shadows that shrouded the Exarch’s face as though he could perceive the red eyes he knew gazed back at him if he tried hard enough. Hope flared to life in his chest, softening his countenance. Realizing what he’d just said, the Exarch licked his lips, taking a reflexive step back as the veil he held so carefully between them fell back into place. “In all the accounts I’ve read regarding you, you never once gave the impression of stupidity. Daring recklessness, _yes_ , however─”

“Where is G’raha Tia?”

“ _What?_ ”

The snarl that E’andhris gave in response surprised them both. The Exarch retreated backwards several steps, moving all the more quickly as the Warrior gave chase, only stopping as his back hit the wall. Pressing both hands flat against its surface on either side, E’andhris bent down, crowding into the hooded man’s space. “ _ **Where**_ is G’raha Tia?” Each word was punctuated with a lash of his tail, mismatched eyes darting across the shorter man’s face—what little he could see of it, even this close. “You said once, when we met, that we could look into him another time. _Well?_ ”

“I—we must focus on the threat at hand, E’andhris,” the Exarch began, sounding reasonable but looking _nervous_ for the first time since the day he’d met the Warrior at the gate that bore his very title. _Good_. Let him be. “You leave for the Rak’tika Greatwood soon and—"

“Then _**when**_? There’s always going to be something else. Another Lightwarden. Another Ascian. Another _threat_.” E’andhris’ voice was raised by now, leaning in so close that their noses nearly touched. Eyes hardened as he searched the other’s face, yet he sensed nothing but the magic used to keep that damned hood in place. “He was _**important**_ to me, Exarch. I want to at least know what happened to him. Where he is, if he’s alright, if he’s _safe_. If he’s finally found happiness,” he begged, the desperation bleeding through his words. 

The Exarch gave a near silent gasp, reaching to fist one hand into E’andhris’ clothes. A glance down showed that it was the crystalline one, the pale blue of his fingers stark against the white of his robes. An ache of a different kind took root in his chest. “E’andhris…”

Closing his eyes, the Warrior exhaled shakily. “Call me Andhris, _please_.” His tongue formed around the name _G’raha_ , his lips refusing to let it pass through them. A wounded sound escaped the Exarch at his quiet plea, releasing him as though he’d been burned. That weak, fluttering hope froze and shattered, turning to dust in E’andhris’ breast as the other shook his head minutely.

“ _Warrior_ ,” he rasped instead, pulling away, pulling the veil even further between them. Wrapping himself in lies and feigned unfamiliarity, he pushed at the tall mage’s chest firmly until he took a single step back. Ducking beneath his arm, the Exarch gave him a long, lingering look as he paced a small distance away. Shaking out the checkered cloth and spreading it over the ground, E’andhris realized dully that it was a picnic blanket. Of course. Images of Mor Dhona flitted through his mind, of similar shared meals along the shores of Silvertear Lake in what felt like a lifetime ago. 

Carefully kneeling atop the blanket, the Exarch gestured for E’andhris to join him in an achingly familiar movement. “As I said before, I’ve found no sign of this individual either within or without the tower,” he said carefully, forcing a brittle smile to his lips as he watched the Warrior approach. “However—I will do all that I can to locate him for you, this...this man who is so dear to you.” 

Another lie. E’andhris should hate him for it, but instead he simply felt numb as he sat beside him. Taking a sandwich from the basket, he ate mechanically if only to sate his hunger, to mollify the Exarch’s concern for him. “Please,” he whispered, looking at him through his lashes. “There’s much I wish I would have had the courage to tell him. Long ago, before it was too late.”

“Such as?” The question sounded as though it pained the Exarch to ask, voice turning hoarse. E’andhris remained silent as he finished the sandwich, reaching for another as he realized just how starved he truly was. Finishing the second, the dark, _angry_ part of him relished making the other wait.

Then he spoke. He spoke of love, of the dreams he’d held of traveling together, baring his heart to the man he would have given everything to. He watched the pain in the Exarch’s face as he listened, as he pretended that he was not that man. That he was not G’raha Tia, that E’andhris was nothing but a historical fascination to him, that they hadn’t loved and lost and spent countless nights _aching_ for each other’s company. Kept apart only by G’raha’s stubborn insistence of smoke and mirrors, with no end in sight.


End file.
